What Does It Mean To Be An Adult?

It’s my birthday today, so I want to talk about age.

When I was 17, I couldn’t vote. This seems like an obvious statement to make and we don’t often question the logic behind it. 17-year-olds are not adults.

But as a 17-year-old, I didn’t understand this. I cried over it. I was angry about it. I vented in a journal entry about how it was completely unfair. “I have a bachelor’s degree in Political Science,” I wrote. “I’ve worked at a think-tank in India, I’ve been part of the World Affairs Council for years, and I have lived and traveled around the world. I know more about politics than most 40-year-olds and I can’t vote.”

I also had a big ego, apparently. Probably still do.

(Quick Confessions: Yes, I had a bachelor’s degree at 17. No, I didn’t have that much of a social life. Yes, the fault is my own, not my parents’. Yes, I kind of regret it.)

The truth is I have had problems with age my whole life. Stanford said I couldn’t research in physics at their linear accelerator until I was 15. In retrospect, it was a small thing, but it devastated pre-teen me. As a young teen, SLAC was my One Direction, okay?

Everyone assumes being younger means being immature. Just a couple months ago, a partner at a major law firm told me he’d never let someone be a summer associate under 21 or hire a full-time associate younger than 25 or 26.

“I’m just being honest, so you stop thinking there’s something wrong with your resume,” he said. “But you have to understand my perspective. You’re just not old enough.”

And the funny thing is this: I do understand now. I still believe that people mature at different ages and I still believe that people can be more mature at 16 than 42. I think that teenagers are stereotyped and boxed and underestimated. And I think that being “an adult” has nothing to do with biological age.

But I understand why age is important. Age is so much more than professional maturity.

Age is the culture you grew up in and whether you remember 9/11. (I don’t.) Age is the way you were taught to look at the world.

Age is when you start dating and where you go to hang out.

Age is whether you’ve ever gone to a bar or gotten drunk.

At some point, whether 18 or 30, age becomes who you are and not a mask you hide behind.

I wasn’t 30 at 17 and so I wasn’t going to be treated as a 30-year-old. I wasn’t going through a mid-life crisis, I wasn’t expected to have a family, and my hair wasn’t graying. I should have acted like I was 17 and embraced it.

See, when I turned 18, something changed in me. Not because December 22 was anything special, but because I made it special. I realized I was an adult that day.

Being an adult means two things to me: responsibility and understanding.

First, I had to be responsible. My parents, the world, and my professors were no longer at fault for the person I was. I no longer expected people to protect me; I fought my own battles. I no longer felt entitled to things I had earned or entitled to a world that wasn’t sexist or racist. I understood life was difficult and I had to work hard for what I wanted regardless of how much “talent” or “effort” I had already put into it. I stopped taking victories for granted.

Second, I started forcing myself to see everyone else’s viewpoints regardless of how hard it was or how much I didn’t want to. It’s hard for me to understand Donald Trump or hunters or terrorists. But I try to. Understanding what makes people who they are helps me win debates better, be happier with who I am and what the world is, and let go of things that bother me.

I’m turning 19 today and I don’t know whether I’m any more of “an adult” than I was at 17. I don’t know when people will let go of the fact that I’m younger. I don’t know when I will.

But I try to embrace who I am and be proud of what I’ve accomplished.

I try to stop blaming the world for stereotyping me, but challenge myself to break those stereotypes.

And I try to understand where other people come from.

Look, I know all of this doesn’t suddenly make me old and wise. But I do think it’s a pretty good start to adult life.

On the other hand, it’s technically my last year as a teenager and I might decide to just take full advantage of that.

Isvari's novel is FREE today and is free until Christmas! The Eyes of Mikra, is about a spy with amnesia who's figured everything out about the war, but nothing about herself. Get it here: https://www.amazon.com/The-Eyes-Mikra-Isvari-ebook/dp/B00RMC3Z10.

Isvari is also a Staff Writer for The Washington Times, composes pop music, and is a Global Law Scholar at Georgetown Law.